


until she stepped in, moving like beautiful truth

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Soccer, oblivious robin, what are monsters?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 06:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: robin has a crush on her soccer team captain (and the captain - you, duh - have a crush on her)





	until she stepped in, moving like beautiful truth

**Author's Note:**

> gonna preface this with: never played soccer, and my only experience w high school sports was cross country years ago! i.e. the ice baths and carb loading!! as for the rest: thanks google! and as for any discrepancies: screw you, google!

The only place Robin felt sane these days was on the field. Prickly green turf painted with white lines that smelled of burning rubber when the sun shined too bright. Worn cleats tied tightly onto feet that would inevitably ache after practice - in the best way, the way that reminded her she was a part of something. A collection of pieces that come together to form a cohesive team.

It’s the first time Robin has felt like she belongs.

Practice ended half an hour ago, the rest of the team headed to the backlot for ice baths to soothe tense muscles, but Robin was still in front of the goal, lobbing ball after ball toward the net. She missed the last one, the ball smacking into the metal of the side of the goal before flying back toward her. She ducked, expecting to hear the ball bounce off the turf behind her; the noise didn’t come.

She heard the voice of the team captain instead.

“You know when I tell you to go for an ice bath, I mean _go take an ice bath_, right?”

She turned to find you holding the ball against your chest, brows arched. You’d ditched your cleats and gear, wearing your shorts and a tank top, sweaty strands of hair sticking out from your ponytail. Even sweaty and tired from the third two-hour practice of the week, you were the most beautiful thing Robin has ever seen. Her stomach tumbled, embarrassment flushing her cheeks pink.

“Sorry. I zoned out, a little bit. Need the practice,” she said.

“You’re the best forward on this team,” you said, “you’re the only one I _don’t_ bitch at for extra hours.”

“Really?”

“Don’t let it go your head,” you said, lips curling up in a grin.

Robin’s heart swelled, though she shoved it down. Just because you wanted her words to mean something didn’t mean they did.

“Come on. You’ve done enough for today,” you said, tucking the ball beneath an arm and jutting your chin toward the gate. Robin relented, and you headed across the field and onto the sidewalk. When you reached the gym’s backlot, with two ice bath tubs were deserted, the rest of the team likely in the showers or on their way home. Both buckets still had water and ice, luckily, and Robin stripped off her cleats, socks, and pads, hiking up her shirt so it didn’t get wet. You did the same, climbing in first, and Robin’s gaze stayed stuck to the rippling muscles on your belly as the icy water hit your skin.

You met her gaze with a half grimace, half-smile, hands gripping the outsides of the tub. Robin couldn’t help but grin back, lowering herself into the tub beside you.

At first, the sensation was that of being smacked with melting ice, but it quickly numbed her skin, working its way to her tired muscles. You leaned against the edge of the tub, bottom half-submerged, and smiled at her.

When Robin shifted, the water pushed deeper beneath her clothes, making her suck in a breath. You laughed, and she let her attention settle on you until it was comfortable again. She knew you were supposed to go home right after practice, even if that entailed staying a bit longer due to her duties. Your parents were adamant about it. And yet, here you were, killing time with her when you could have been the first one in the baths and showers.

“You’re coming tomorrow, right?” You asked. Robin’s brows furrowed. “Allie’s house. Carb loading.”

“Oh,” she said, “right. I’m not sure.” She loved her teammates, loved the game. She didn’t love tiptoeing around you and pretending her heart didn’t stop every time you looked at her. It was hard enough at school and in practice.

“You’re not skipping again.”

“I have-”

“Work,” you finished.

Robin crinkled her nose. It was clear you’d seen through the lie. “Yeah.”

Your gaze lingered on her for a beat before looking away, preventing her from catching the face you made.

“You know, for someone who cares so much, I never see you off the field. You’re the last one into the showers, every day. You’ve never been to a team event, before. Which makes no sense, because you’re, like, the most passionate person on this team,” you said. You were right, too right for Robin to even try and argue. If she did, she feared the truth would spill out.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply.

“I just don’t get it,” you said. Robin’s cheeks warmed and she shifted in the water, moving to the edge of the tub closest to yours.

“I’ll be there,” she said, “I promise,” because she couldn’t explain her absence prior, but she could show up and erase that sad look on your face. That, she had to believe, was something.

* * *

Carb loading consisted of 15 girls and pot after pot full of pasta stuffed into someone’s house the night before a game. This being the night before the championship game, there was more bread - and pent-up energy - than Robin had ever seen from her teammates. It was impossible not to be swept up in the excitement, and by the time food was served all anxieties about seeing you had faded.

Until she ended up squished between you and another teammate - Nancy Wheeler, a senior to your junior. Nancy was engaged in some discussion with the girl beside her about the upcoming game’s rival team, and the girl on your side was too focused on her spaghetti to even look up, leaving an awkward silence between you and Robin.

“Got out of work?” You asked, grabbing the small basket of garlic bread and stacking two rolls on your plate before handing it to her. It was a smart move; by handing you something, there was no way not to acknowledge her words.

“You know I was lying,” Robin said; not a question. You cocked your head slightly, brows arched.

“I’m not stupid,” you said.

“Never thought you were.”

“Then why lie?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s ‘cuz I hate the food?” She asked. You scoffed, nodding to her full plate - three garlic rolls, scoops of two different kinds of pasta, and a teeny, tiny salad.

“Try again.”

The words banged against her teeth, desperate to be let out, just once, if only once. The monologue that had been building up in her chest since the first day she saw you freshman year, both gangly junior varsity members who had little talent and a lot of spirit.

_Being around you hurts more than being away. I can’t jump any further without hitting the water and sinking. You’re the ocean I’d drown in without a fight. _

“I just…I’m not a team type of person.” Another lie, of course; another you easily saw through. Disappointment clouded your features for a long moment - long enough for guilt to stir in Robin’s gut, mixing unpleasantly with all the bread and pasta - before you dropped your gaze.

“Whatever you say, Buckley.”

Except, Robin couldn’t help but feel like the time of her excuses going unprotested was coming to an end.The energy buzzing through the Hawkins girl’s soccer team was unlike anything Robin had seen before. The first time the team has made it to past the finals and to the championship game in over a decade, and she was a part of it.

The game was cutthroat, the score only having reached 1-1 after 85 minutes. With only five left in the game, she and the girls on the field were the only things standing between success and a long string of losses. A really, really long one.

They hadn’t been able to get near the box for twenty minutes, but Robin spotted a hole midfield, one of her own players drawing the opponent just far enough away. She caught your eye, and though anywhere else you might have looked away, whatever tension remains from the night before didn’t exist here. The only thing that mattered was the ball at your feet, the opening, and the goal.

It only took a second of silent communication across the field for you to duck around another forward and push the ball as far your way as you could before sending it to Robin. She fumbled with it for a beat before moving and taking the hole the second before the midfielder darted back into place, Robin past her and out of reach.

Then, all it took was a kick. One kick, one ball flying toward the goal, right over the goalie’s head and into the net. The ref blew his whistle, the game came to a halt, and Robin’s team ran at her like a pack of puppies.

It was a gaggle of chaos, of jumping and screaming and hugging and laughing, feet pounding the turf so hard Robin feared it would give way. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned, only to be pulled into your arms.

“You did,” you said, pulling back to look at her, smile wide and eyes bright, “You _fucking_ did it!”

Your hands moved to grip her arms, and you shook your head like you couldn’t believe it.

“I swear, I could kiss you! I can’t believe-”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back - the camel, being, Robin’s resolve. One second, you were grinning at her. The next, she kissed you. Not much, barely even a kiss, but clear in its intent.

When she realized what she’d done she pulled away, ready to disentangle herself from your arms and flee the field. But your grip on her arms remained, and, somehow, the smile on your face got even wider.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“_That_,” Robin said, “was why I lied.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned in your eyes. You didn’t even have to respond - when you kissed her, it said everything you could have, and more.


End file.
